Any More, Black Shoe
by Emma CS Me
Summary: Finn... has daddy issues.


**A/N: **Because I feel bad about not studying more, I have come up with the weirdest studying plan ever - I'll just write a whole bunch of fic based of Plath's poems (I have exams in two weeks, and she's one of the topics). So title, and epigraph, and the whole idea behind this fic, come from her poem "Daddy."

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ANY MORE, BLACK SHOE**

_'So I never could tell where you__  
Put your foot, your root,  
I never could talk to you.'_

_- "Daddy," Sylvia Plath_

Whenever he thinks about it, Finn decides it's all very unfair.

It doesn't get it all, really, and he doesn't think he's meant to, because after all, he was just a baby when Dad died. That's not fair either – he never got a real idea of who the guy was, and now his father is dead, he has this mythological figure hanging over him like a led weight. He has no memories, and hence he builds them, out of the remnants in his house, his mind – the clothes, the chair, the ashes.

All he ever hears about his father paints the man as a hero, which Finn tends to believe, because after all, he did die for the sake of his country. But in all honestly, Finn's sick of it, because what hero abandons his family like that? His father barely even knew him; all he has is one photo to prove he and the man even existed in the same universe, and didn't the guy know Finn _needed_ him? No, the bastard just ran out when that bullet opened the door and never even bothered to say goodbye, and Finn just _hates him_.

That's irrational and he knows it. He doesn't really care.

He tries so hard to be the good guy; to always be there for everyone. His mother calls him his father's son; always the loyal, supportive one, and Finn just wants to be sick. When Quinn's baby was his, he wanted so badly to be there; to be an actual father, be a man, not just some legend to ask her to carry for miles and miles. He would have his flaws, sure, but that would be okay – better, even, because that would prove he was _real_. Poor Drizzle wouldn't just have to believe so hard in something she never knew, until she wanted for him just to _not exist_ because it hurt so badly for him not to be there.

But that hadn't worked out either; Puck had taken her from him. Puck was a selfish son of a bitch, and the worst thing was, he didn't know how lucky he was – Finn just listened with a sympathetic smile whenever Puck went on about his dad, who ran out when he was what, five? – Puck's father at least gave him a few moments, time to know who he was. Puck could hate his father for leaving and no-one would blame him, because they saw how that bastard had abandoned his family. Finn just sat there and listened like the nice guy he was, all the while fighting the urge to punch Puck in the face. Puck said he didn't care about his deadbeat dad, and Finn knew that wasn't true – Puck was still hurting, just like Finn was. That made it feel better.

But that was just one conversation, and as a rule, he and Puck don't talk about vanishing father figures – okay, nowadays, as a rule, he and Puck just plain don't talk. He can't keep himself from thinking Puck's going to walk out on not-Drizzle (well, yeah, given Quinn's probably still giving the baby up for adoption, but that's not the point), and his Not Daughter is going to wind up just like him. In this regard, at least.

There is a black leather chair in the corner and his mother is trying to give it away, and Finn _can't let her_, because if he does then that's it. The world of the photo, where his father is a person and not an idea consuming his whole head like a brain tumor, is gone. She's angry with him and he can see it, and he's angry at himself too, because he's so sick of doing this. He never knew his father, so he doesn't even really miss him, but he can't let go, and he doesn't know why.

He blames it on his dad. Stupid not-real bastard; chose the fight over his son, and Finn doesn't even know why. Was he that horrific a baby to have, that it was better just to die before he had the chance to know you; rope you into his life? His mother is mad at him, and he's mad at himself, and it's all the fault of this stupid legendary bastard he doesn't even know – so why does him not being here have to affect Finn like this?

His mother is dragging him into this new world, and he knows he's being selfish – she deserves to be happy. But it just sickens him, because it feels like his father is sliding out, and Finn's not all that great at understanding things at the best of times, but without that filter _none_ of the world seems to make sense. Besides, things with the Hummels keep getting awkward – it's still kind of weird, pretending he doesn't know Kurt likes him (Finn's stupid, but he's not that stupid).

But that doesn't stick, because Burt Hummel is actually a good father figure. Finn just _likes spending time with him_, and that fact is a little bit terrifying. Kurt is clearly losing his mind over it, and that's not fair, because doesn't he get what a problem this is for Finn? The Legend of Finn's Dad is getting pushed to the back of his head, and Finn just can't take that – he _can't_ let it go, and he _needs_ to let it go, because having it stuck in his head like this is killing him.

He and his mother fight, and she cries, and he hates himself for it – she admits so many things. The myth of the man has been weighing her down too; she's just spent all her time with the ashes for the last sixteen years – wait a second, _that's not fair_. She knew him, Finn didn't, so why doesn't that make it better? She doesn't have to carry around a myth in his place – she _knows him_.

His mother is crying, and just wants so badly to be okay again. Finn wants to be okay again too. But he's confused; he doesn't understand.

Finn is lost.

And Finn is angry.

And yet again, it is all his father's fault.

(Okay, not really, but Finn will take what he can get.)


End file.
